Still
by Cinnamon Ninja
Summary: "It's difficult to accept that the 'us' we all held so close has withered away without anyone even noticing." Future Carl reflects on the breakdown of the gang's friendship. Monologue, of course. Oneshot.


**Gosh, I write too many drabble monologues when I really should be doing other things. Other, more _constructive_ things, like writing more of 'What Just Happened?' or doing homework or something. I don't know anymore. **

**Anyway, I hope you enjoy the silly amounts of future Carl angst! **

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><p>All my life, I've just … existed. I've relied on my friends to tell me who I am, what I can do. And now ... they're gone. All of them. One by one, we just sort of … drifted apart. If I was going to be poetic, I'd say it was like icebergs breaking apart and slowly melting, or the last few leaves falling off a branch in autumn. But it's too real for nature analogies. Too final.<p>

There is no-one left but me.

Libby's off interning at a big radio station in Houston, finding the 'funkiest jellies on the square' or something. (I never could get the hang of her speech.)

Sheen's a major internet celebrity, making regular appearances at conventions all over the world. His grating voice, encyclopaedic knowledge of pop culture and unique brand of insanity gained legendary meme status a few years back, and people still love it when he makes guest appearances. And when people love you, you get paid. He left Retroville the summer after he graduated – Libby's the only reason he stayed that long. When she left, he did too.

Cindy's off at an Ivy League university studying law. (How could she not? All she ever does is argue.) She aced her SAT's, naturally, and she still shows up in the _Retroville Times _every so often, her name always right next to Jimmy's.

Jimmy … well, Jimmy's doing what we always knew he would do. He's inventing, still, creating on a daily basis the sorts of stuff that people used to say were impossible. He outgrew his lab here years ago – he needed better insulation, bigger reactors, more space. So he's gone, too. Off in one of the big universities, unlocking the mysteries of the cosmos and breaking every scientific law known to man.

As for me, the fifth wheel? I was the only one who stayed in Retroville. And I'm still here, even after all these years, even after all my old friends have packed up and left for bigger and better things. I'm still here. Still dropping in at the Candy Bar, even though it's just not the same after Sam died and the new guy took over. Still hanging out in the park. Still living. Just.

The five of us were closer than close for years – best friends, unshakeable. Jimmy still took us all on adventures when we got to middle school, even through high school. We travelled to every place we could think of (and a thousand more besides), and Jimmy's inventions just kept getting wilder, more incredible, more impossible. But then … then, adulthood happened. Everyone graduated and separated, and our bonds were stretched. Jimmy's teleportation pads started malfunctioning, and everyone was just kept too busy with work and new friends and _life _to visit each other the normal way anymore. I tried my hardest to keep us together, but Jimmy always had an important speech to give at a conference, or Sheen was due in New Zealand for a con, or Libby was working the night shift for three days straight, or Cindy had a _mountain _of homework. Eventually, I just stopped trying.

Now, what passes for our 'friendship' is like a winter's night - cold, lonely, monochromatic, still as the grave. Hardly a shred of life left in it. I still try, every so often, and no-one's really _unhappy _to hear from me ... but I don't fit into their lives as well as I used to. Our metaphorical jigsaw pieces have warped, and we don't even make a coherent picture anymore. On the few times we've all gotten together our conversations are stilted, awkward: nowhere near the easy bantering we had as kids.

It's difficult to accept that the 'us' we all held so close has withered away without anyone even noticing.

Sheen, Libby, Cindy, Jimmy – their separate stars are shining bright. Always have. I used to think that I would shine bright like that too someday, if I just did what everyone told me to, kept my head down and didn't get hurt. But I guess that some of us are just meant to be winners. And I guess I'm just not one of them.

The Five Amigops are no more.


End file.
